Macbeth
by Dusty Llama
Summary: Roy Mustang has a well-known ambition of becoming Fuhrer. When three mysterious women inform him of his fate, how far will he go to achieve what he's sought? My take on the Bard's Scottish Play, with an alchemic twist. Pairings will vary. Character death.


Disclaimer: I don't own anything...seriously. All of my worldly possesions were bought for me by my parents and friends, none of which include the rights to Fullmetal Alchemist or Macbeth. But the second I get the chance to, I'm buying the rights to The Beatles. Ohhh yeah.

This is pre-Hughes'...uh...SPOILER. And, obviously, a little AU. Ed barely knows of Mustang, the homunculi have no ulterior motives and barely _know_ that they're homunculi, Lyra's in here just for kicks...basically, this is a casting call with the FMA characters as Macbeth people.

This all started 'cause I went to the city's production of Macbeth and it was AU as well—it took place in WWII. Of course, my mind instantly jumped to this idea, so there you go.

And, for the purpose of casting calls...Sloth was destroyed and Trisha was...uh...reincarnated. Even though she'd only be three.

...deal with it.xD

-

The sound of battle could be heard all around him.

"I've got you now, Mustang!" Said one of them, eyes glinting with malice. With practiced ease, the alchemist sent a wave of fire behind him, blocking the attacker from reaching him.

This wasn't anything like Ishbal. This war was taking place on the premise that...well, Mustang really didn't know. Although he was a Colonel, he'd been called to the front lines, along with Hughes and a quite a few others from his station in Central: Havoc, Breda, Falman, and even Hawkeye, to name a few.

However, just as he'd sent the man staggering away with burns enough to stop him fighting, he saw an officer run off in the direction of the base, a few miles back, where the Fuhrer was. Mustang sidestepped the few bodies around him, littered with casings and bulletholes—none left by his hand, he'd left that to the enlisted men—and turned to speak with someone.

"Lieutenant Havoc, what is that private doing?" He asked while his subordinate took a rare, relaxed puff of his cigarette.

"Hey, chief. He's off to tell the Fuhrer that we're done. Didn't you hear? They've retreated—that one guy you just sent back was the last of 'em." His toothy grin gave the impression that he was sure of what he'd said.

"Hm. It's just as well," Mustang began, dragging a gloved hand through his hair. "I was wondering when this was going to end. You wouldn't know, but this handful of battles was even more pointless than Ishbal." His mouth turned to a grimace as he remembered the old war.

"Hey, Roy!" A loud voice was heard from a few yards away. "Isn't it great? It's all over—I can see my dear Elysia again!"

Mustang rolled his eyes. Of course, it was the same old Hughes—he'd been kept in the medical tent under special orders from the Fuhrer, probably because he was one of the few older officers who hadn't experienced Ishbal. The Colonel wouldn't have had it any other way, though—his friend would have seen alot of blood in that tent, but at least he wouldn't have had to witness his own comrades massacring the innocents of this place.

"Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, how are you?" Havoc responded with a salute. '_Funny how he didn't salute me...I guess it doesn't really matter. Still, though..._'

"Oh, same old, same old—at least as same and old as you can get in a war. But, it's all done now, from what I've heard. Life goes on, eh?" He grinned, and the Colonel was sure his friend was just itching to show them a new photo of his daughter. Or take one, for that matter.

"So it does, Maes." Mustang said, looking off at where the man had run off. Havoc stood up from the dilapidated wall he'd been leaning on and put out his cigarette.

"I'll be off, then. Got to report back, you know. You two'll probably be heading out soon enough as well?"

Both his superior officers nodded, and Hughes spoke as Havoc walked away.

"They've been anticipating this for a while now, so they already have a car here for us. You gonna be alright, Roy?" The Lieutenant Colonel hadn't really spoken to his friend in the time they'd been there; Mustang was careful enough not to get hurt too badly, and the medical tent had been swamped with those who _did_ get injured. Also, needless to say, neither of them had had much time to sleep—so when they got a moment, they took it for what it was, and at least relaxed _some_.

"Oh, I'm alright." Mustang replied, rubbing his eyes. "Just glad to be going home."

As the two walked, they could see the last few remnants of war as the casualties were dragged away and the injured were nursed back in the medical tent. They were approached by a car, and were soon on their way back to Central.

About halfway to their destination, the two men fast asleep in their seats, their vehicle suddenly stopped. The sudden movement jerked Mustang awake; he'd learned long ago to be alert at all times, even when asleep. He woke Hughes.

"We've stopped, and the driver doesn't seem to be anywhere in sight." He said in a harsh whisper. There was every reason to keep on guard, even if the war was declared over. After all, it could have been a trap, to get everyone unfocused on the situation.

"C'mon, Roy. I don't think we're in too much danger apart from being attacked by a tree."

Even in his groggy, humorous state, he was right. There was nothing around them, anywhere, except a few scattered trees—barely large enough to shied a person, let alone an ambush. But that brought up another query.

"Where did the driver disappear t—"

Suddenly, there appeared three people behind the car, where Mustang had just turned his head. He stepped out of the vehicle swiftly, pulling on his gloves. Wherever these three had come from, they didn't have any air of innocence about them.

"Who are you?" Mustang said, prepared to snap.

The three were clad in sandy-colored robes that hid their faces and dragged across the dusty earth around them. The middle one lifted her head and let the hood of her robe fall down.

"We are the three seers, great alchemist." She said in a far-away voice. The other two lifted their hoods.

The girl on the left was timid-looking and had misty red-brown eyes. He could see from her skin and eyes that she was an Ishbalan woman. The third was a woman with pale features and dark hair. She spoke next.

"I am Lyra." She said in a smooth voice. The first woman continued.

"And I, Trisha." She had a warm, motherly smile, though she couldn't have been older than sixteen. The last of the three didn't speak, so she went on. "And this is...Rose."

The shy girl averted her gaze from all of them, deciding upon looking at the dust being blown around.

"We have come to tell you of great things, should you wish to accept them." Lyra informed them smoothly. By that time, Hughes had stepped outside as well. Mustang lowered his hand, but still eyed them cautiously.

"Then go right ahead and tell me."

-

Hehe...a cliffhanger, of sorts. Just because I didn't want "Hey, It's Vic Mignogna!" to be my only fic. And...this still isn't the promised FMA fic I said I'm working on in my profile. But hey, you win some, you lose some.

Also, I do realize that 'massacring' isn't a word, in any way of spelling it. Bear with me on that one.

Sorry for the _complete_ AU-ness. But...well, I like it. So there.

The next chapter should be up..._relatively_ soon. I hope.

Hi-Tetsu


End file.
